


Quarry II

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Kedaar makes a new ally.





	Quarry II

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published August 4, 2008. This story is part of One More Chance, taking place between XXI and XXII.

I blamed her for what happened to Bloodthorn. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it. I could have walked away. Could have been more careful. But I keep coming back to the fact that I wouldn’t have even been there if not for her. No one said feelings had to be logical.

It doesn’t matter though. Lay the blame where you like… him, her, me. The result is still the same. I feel like part of me is missing, like I’m the one whose hand is gone. There’s an empty space where Bloodthorn used to be, and it feels like everything is slowly leaking out.

That’s a bit maudlin, isn’t it. I drank way too much, that’s not helping. I went to the city in the swamp, I heard there was some good work there. And it was far, far away from that place where I buried his body. I saw the sister there, in the tavern. I told her. I know I shouldn’t have, I could see how much she hurt when I said it. She had nothing to do with it, but I did it anyway. I’m not proud of it. I guess maybe I figured if I spread it around, maybe I’ll hurt less.

I did some work for the humans there, something political. Not really my usual kind of job, but it paid well. I didn’t ask questions. So then I hear there’s a goblin settlement further out in the swamp. Goblins pay even better, because it’s the kind of stuff no one wants to do. The swamp is awful, mud as deep as your hocks and it stinks when it dries. Huge spiders, those damned fish-people, everything. It’s also stuffed full of crocolisks and those things don’t let go once they’ve got hold.

And raptors. Draenor has some, in the jagged mountains that bordered Farahlon. These ones were different though, slimmer, and you can see the intelligence in their eyes. They moved in groups too, it looked like, gathered around in a clearing. The place was littered with bones, picked clean. That’s when I saw the big one. He was older, bigger, his skin scarred from fights. Clearly the meanest bastard of the bunch. I knew I couldn’t hunt alone forever. As much as it hurt to admit it, I needed to replace Bloodthorn, without him I was only half a hunter. I thought that this raptor just might be up to the job. I remembered a flyer on the post, back in the goblin town. They were offering a reward for him. It seemed like the poster had been there for a long time.

I admit I don’t know much about raptors, but some things are universal. He watched me with his yellow eyes as I laid down a trap, setting the spring carefully. I moved back into the cover of the bushes, away from the rest of the pack. A predator won’t go for dried meat, it wants blood. So I still had some of the meat I keep for Bloodthorn, separate from my own rations. It had gone a little bit off, but predators don’t mind that either. I unwrapped it and I tossed it down onto the ground in front of the trap.

I’m pretty sure he laughed, if you can picture that. His snakey head bobbed and his jaws parted, I could see the rows of teeth. I liked those teeth. He stood there, jaws open, watching me. The long claws on his hind feet tapped the ground. I liked those claws too, but I had to be careful that one of them didn’t gut me. He looked ancient, his skin the color of the surrounding swamp. The raptor’s head swung around, looking at the meat, and for a second I thought he was going to go for it. But he went for me instead.

He leapt fully over the trap with a screech, those big claws hoisted up. I was knocked down, flat on my tail, and thankfully I was wearing chain mail or I’d have been unzipped right there. I fumbled and threw another trap down, praying it’d work without setting the spring. It snapped, and the frost crept up over the raptor’s leg, holding him still. He screamed and tried to slash at the trap with his claws as I unhooked the lariat from my belt. “Sorry about this,” I told him, looping it over his head. It was only temporary, but I still hated doing it.

The raptor bucked and slashed, his eyes flashing hate at me as I tethered him to a tree. He was strong, much stronger than Bloodthorn was, and a few times I thought he’d drag me off. I spent the next few days there by that tree, a few times some of his pack mates wandered by and I had to shoot into the air to scare them off. It’s a bit like a ritual and a bit like a date, a careful give and take dance. The key is respect, and proving you’re worthy to hunt together. Some animals are easy, throw them a few pieces of meat and they’ll follow you. But that’s not the kind I wanted.

By the end of the third day, I let him off the tether. He didn’t kill me, and he didn’t turn and run. He was still wary though, and still mad, he’d gape his jaws and hiss at me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t looking. I talked to him like I talked to Bloodthorn, while I worked and around the fire at night. The sound of your voice is important for them to learn. I don’t know if it was my imagination but he’d cock his head and watch me when I talked, sure made it seem like he was interested in my stories. You won’t be so interested when you’ve heard them a dozen times, raptor.

We were both restless by then, and I was out of meat. It was time to take him hunting. He responded well to signals, I had taught him one for “return to me”. I didn’t figure he would need to be told to attack. The claws were good. Really good. The only downside is they sometimes ruin the skins, but I found myself accepting that maybe this new companion wasn’t so bad. I felt guilty about it. I hoped Bloodthorn would understand.


End file.
